Current mood:	creative
Current music:	maria came from nashville with a suitcase in her hand

bit o' fic
So. Remus. Five things that never happened.

This is one of 'em.

Ravenclaw

Remus pushed his way through the back door of the cottage, looking around carefully to make sure no one was about before he slipped into the garden.

At the far side of the hedge, he found it -- the broom his uncle had hidden from him just before he’d been called into supper that night.

The moon was full, and he wondered why his parents made them go to bed so early, when there was so much light, it was like daytime. A laugh burbled up and he forgot he was supposed to be quiet, that he couldn’t wake anyone up or he’d be in a lot of trouble.

He swung a leg over the broom and kicked off the ground. He was surprised when it rose over the hedge and took him out into the street -- this was so much better than the toy his parents’ had given him when he turned five last month.

The broom vibrated beneath him, and for a few minutes he zoomed through the streets of the village, laughing gleefully at his secret adventure. No one would ever believe it. He couldn’t wait to tell.

He was heading back toward home when he heard it -- a howl that made the hair on his neck stand up and the skin on his arms break out in goosebumps. He sped up, scared now, remembering that it wasn’t daytime, that there were dark things out at night and even if there weren’t, his parents wouldn’t be too happy about him sneaking around.

Fear overwhelmed him and he lost control of the broom, crashing to the ground headfirst. Dazed, he looked up to see a sleek, gray wolf loping up Main Street toward him. He scrabbled back, unable to get up, sharp shooting pains in his left shoulder and leg making him whimper.

The wolf lunged and a shot rang out, then another. It fell in a bloody, slavering heap on top of Remus, who cried like the five-year-old he was.

His father and uncle sped to his side, shotguns in hand, kicking the beast off him, all warm hands and concerned voices.

He blacked out, and woke to his mother’s gentle hands upon his brow, her eyes shining brightly as she told him he was very lucky and if he loved her at all, he must never ever have adventures again.

***

“Lupin, Remus,” McGonagall called, and eleven-year-old Remus walked to the dais and settled the Sorting Hat upon his head.

~Hmm,~ the Hat said, and he flinched. ~Loyal, yes, and brave, but what’s this? No desire for adventures? You certainly have the brains for--~ “RAVENCLAW!” the Hat called out, and he made his way over to the Ravenclaw table to the cheers of his new housemates.

***

Remus fit in well at Ravenclaw. He spent most of his time in the library, working on projects that would have baffled most wizards his age. He was top of his class in Defence and second only to Snape in Potions. His only other competition came from the two Gryffindors, James Potter and Sirius Black.

He watched them in envy sometimes, the playful banter and wrestling in which they engaged, the way they excitement always followed them, but his mother’s words always stuck with him – “No more adventures, my dear sweet boy. Not if you love your mother.”

And he did love his mother, and so heeded her words almost until the day he died.

The Death Eaters attempted to recruit him, both during his last year at Hogwarts, when a third of his fellow Ravenclaws joined the Dark Lord, and after he'd left school, but Remus knew evil when he saw it, remembered it in the mad yellow eyes of the wolf, and everything in him rebelled against it.

He explored ever more esoteric avenues of magic for Professor Dumbledore after leaving school, contributed in his own quiet way to the Order of the Phoenix, and it was through his painstaking research that the Potters were protected, obscure wards and charms the last line of defense should their Secret-Keeper fail.

No one ever expected one of their closest friends to betray them to their deaths, to provide not only their location, but the key to all of Remus’s well-designed protection spells as well.

Reading of that betrayal in the Daily Prophet, Remus was glad he had never become close to James Potter or Sirius Black.

He lived alone and died young, in the second war against Voldemort, giving his life bravely so that Harry Potter could live. He finally had another adventure, and it was enough to make him laugh as he had as a child, enjoying his last breaths more than the millions that had come before.

~*~

Still writing, but hope to be finished soon. Still need a beta...

Home soon. Lovely day out. Maybe I'll walk. Hmmm...